Earlier in the summer Bomber and I started talking about putting the bass rods down and making a trip to swing some flies for summer runners. July was hot, spent most of the month well above 100 seppo and our plans had to change a few times. "We could go to river x and try to skate one up" nope, water temps were too high. "We could take the jet to river y and camp on the gravel bars" nope, same story. "lets go low down on river z and see if we can find some early fish" That was the plan, until half the north state caught fire and highways turned into fire breaks. The trip got postponed a few weeks and we settled on river r.
Bomber and I loaded up the floaties and headed up in the evening, there would be no escaping the smoke...
It sure smelled like campfire but a led lantern aint the same. Once camp was set up we had a beer or two and called it a night.
Got an early start and it felt good...
Good to feel a chill.
Good to get one out of the way [insert]thousandmorepuneshere[/insert]
Good to see a fellow angler.
Good to watch bomber work.
Good to see mother nature finally helping these guys gain some ground on the fires.
Good to enjoy the simplicity of good bread, good cheese and good meat. No mayo
Good to swing buckets with dry lines.
And damn good to feel some pull back.
That evening our friends white and sandy made the drive up and met us at camp. White lives down the street from some sort of craft brew store. He brought along some really good fukin beer none of which I can remember and without a campfire I took no photographic evidence to recall what or how many we drank.
The next morning was a bit hazy. I took this photo then promptly stuck that skunk into a fish right where she should have been. Towards the end of the swing, nearly a hang downer, she turned and the line went slack.
Pulled over on cow patty beach for lunch...
Momma came out of the brush and didn't seem too thrilled we had encroached on her drinking hole, little black calf stayed in the brush.
Lots of "tight box" talk throughout the trip
Towards the bottom of the drift I found a nice sharp piece of steel hanging out just below the surface. Fuk... luckily bomber, who was right behind me in the big raft, missed it. Loaded all my shit up in the big raft and we finished out the drift. Shitty, but it'll get fixed, and we had brought another water master just in case.
It was like fishing overcast days with the thick smoke cover but mid day high sun naps were still enjoyed.
Day 3 started out in some good skating water, a ledgy pool above a big rapid, chug chug chug...
bomber was in the midst of a 3 trip dry spell and was beginning to smell. Earlier in the day white lost a fish to a nicked leader, but at least he got to feel some weight. Bomber wanted a fish, at least a grab, something to reward his efforts and we were getting close to the end. I started insisting that he just cherry pick the best water, all the fish we'd hooked had been in the same lies. Right where an adult should be I saw his line jolt a bit...bombers head sank and a pune jumped at the end of his line.
Wasn't meant to be, skunk can be hard to wash off.
A bit of a log jam at the takeout.
Even though we were trying to get on the road some things are just far more important. A heartfelt thank you to all those fighting wild land fires throughout the west.
About as clear of a sky as we'd seen in a few weeks
On the road and already bomber and I were talking about a return trip before winter. He wants redemption, I want to bring a fukin hacksaw and do a bit of river clean up. Both of us just had way too much fun swinging dry lines again.